Angels in the Belfrey
by Gaeriel Mallory
Summary: Cordelia and Wesley find new jobs after their deaths: as guardian angels for the Batfamily. Crossover with DC Comics.
1. Guardian Angels

Title: Guardian AngelAuthor: Gaeriel Mallory  
Rating: K+  
Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, Inc. or DC Comics and Warner Brothers.  
Note: Written in response to TTH's Fic-for-all #50: Wesley / Barbara Gordon (Batgirl/Oracle)

* * *

Wesley stood over the red-haired woman in the hospital bed. He sighed and placed a hand over hers laying on top of the blanket. 

"She's hurting pretty badly," Cordelia whispered beside him. "Are you sure you can handle this?"

He graced her with a faint smile. "I'll do my best."

The former seer laid a hand on his back and looked at the woman in the bed. "Be careful, Wes. She's one of the Powers' and she's pretty close to just giving it all up forever."

"She's needed then?" he asked her.

"Desperately. Her life is tied with too many other Champions for her to turn her back on the good fight." Cordelia stepped back. "You'll do fine." She vanished with a brief pulse of light, leaving the hospital room empty save for Wesley and Barbara Gordon. The machines beeped and pulsed as they measured her vital signs.

Wesley sighed and sat down in one of the chairs provided. "I guess I'll just have to wait then," he murmured.

* * *

Barbara blinked away the drug-induced fog that had taken over her brain. "Ugh," she groaned. She froze as she memory swept back to her and she realized she could not feel anything below her waist. 

"Take it easy there," a British-accented voice told her softly.

She looked up and frowned. "Who are you?"

"I'm Wesley." His lips twitched upwards slightly. "I suppose you can call me your guardian angel."

She squeezed her eyes tight and attempted to fight past all the chemicals in her system. "Why are you here?" she finally managed. He had kind eyes behind those glasses, she observed absently.

"I'm here to help you."

* * *

"Oracle out." Barbara slid off the headset and turned to the man standing behind her. "Well?" she asked. 

"You were brilliant," Wesley told her. "I told you that you could do it." He studied her. "Do you feel any better now that you're helping again?"

She toyed with the headset. "A little," she admitted. "It's nowhere near as satisfying as punching a thug in the face, though."

"But think how many more people you're aiding now." Wesley knelt in front of her and placed his hands over hers. "Barbara, look at me," he commanded softly. Green eyes slowly met his brown ones. "I'm so proud of you. You had a terrible loss but you didn't let it stop you from fighting." He gestured around the room, at the mass of computers and computer hardware that covered the wall. "Look at what you've done."

"I couldn't have done it without you." She put down the headset and reached down, embracing him. "Thank you, Wes. I don't know what would have happened if you weren't there to encourage me."

He hugged her back. "I do recall there was some berating involved as well."

She chuckled wetly. "I appreciate the berating too." She sat back and wiped her eyes. "How will Batman react when he finds out?"

He stood up. "I'm afraid that's something you're going to have to figure out on your own, Barbara." He placed his hands on her shoulders and smiled down fondly at her. "You're back on track now and you don't need me anymore."

She blinked in confusion. "Wait—you're leaving?"

"I have to," he told her gently. Sitting down in the chair next to her, he looked down at his hands. "I never told you this but when I died, I was given a choice to become what I am now. I help those who were destined to fight on the side of good but are going through a time of confusion find their way again. Barbara, my job is done. You're exactly right where you need to be."

She was silent for a long time. Finally, she spoke. "Wesley, can I ask you a question?"

"Anything."

"Why did you choose this?" She shook her head. "Why did you choose this life?"

He shook his head. "God, anything but that." He sighed and removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes. "I'm afraid I'm not quite ready to talk about it yet," he admitted. "The wound's still a bit too fresh."

She clasped his hand. "I understand." She smiled softly. "Thank you for everything."

He leaned down and kissed her on her cheek. "Give them hell, Oracle." He glowed brightly before disappearing.

* * *

The Justice League holiday party was in full swing. Barbara laughed at something that Dinah Lance, the Black Canary said regarding Superman's choice of headgear. The Man of Steel, dressed in civilian clothes, flashed a grin over in their corner and shook his head, causing the reindeer antlers on his head to bob. 

"God, Bruce outdid himself this year," Barbara observed. The ballroom of Wayne Manor was decorated tastefully in Christmas decorations, complete with a giant tree in the corner, Alfred Pennyworth's handiwork.

"He certainly has." Dinah took a sip of her punch and nodded at the host. "He's even glowering less than usual."

A man stepped in the doorway of the room, causing those closest to him to look suspiciously his way. In his hand, he carried a large bouquet of white lilies. Alfred walked up to him and the two conversed in low tones. Finally, Alfred escorted him across the room to where the two women were. "Miss Barbara," the butler said, "this man claims to be an acquaintance of yours?" He sniffed slightly and frowned at the unexpected guest.

Barbara blinked and had to take another look before she believed what she was seeing. "Wesley? What are you doing here? It's been years."

He nodded and smiled. "Happy Christmas," he told her as he handed her the flowers. "We had some unfinished business that I rather cowardly ran away from."

She accepted the lilies, frowning. "What on earth are you talking about?"

The two ignored the crowd that was collecting around the two, Bruce Wayne and Dinah at the front, listening with curiosity.

"Before we parted, you asked me why I choose the particular career that I did. I never gave you an answer." Wesley closed his eyes and took a breath. "I lost someone who was extremely dear to me and I went through a period in which I could have used some spiritual guidance. I still had not quite resolved everything with myself before I died." He smiled slightly. "An old friend of mine met me on the other side and gave me the choice to become what I became so that I could help those who needed help. I suppose you could say I was seeking redemption in my own way for some rather unchoice acts and words of mine after Fred's death, especially towards the one who replaced her. You see, I blamed myself and I wasn't quite ready to let go of that guilt yet. So I chose."

Barbara smiled and took his hand. "Thank you for telling me."

"Thank you for listening." He looked around and noticed their audience for the first time. He cleared his throat and grinned sheepishly. "I don't suppose you'd like to dance?" he inquired.

"Dance?" Barbara laughed a little hysterically. "But there's no music."

"On it, Wes!" a brash female voice called out. Barbara looked towards it and saw a woman with short curly brown hair standing by a sound system in the corner. The woman waved at her and made a shooing motion with her hands.

Wesley's chuckling drew her attention again. "That is Cordelia," he told her. "It seems death has not done away with any of her louder personality traits." He extended his hands towards her. "A dance?"

"But—" Her reply was cut off as he plucked the bouquet out of her hands and passed them off to a bemused Dinah. He then pulled her out of her wheelchair and into his arms. Her legs dangled a few inches off the ground.

"It's okay," he whispered into her ear. "I won't drop you. I'm much stronger than I used to be."

Slow dance music began playing and Wesley twirled her around in a circle. She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck, enjoying the feel of not being restricted to the chair for a little bit.

"Hey, tall, dark and broody! Let's dance!"

The two laughed at Cordelia pulling Bruce reluctantly onto the middle of the floor. "You certainly have a way of making a party interesting," Barbara observed.

He grinned. "You should see some of the holiday parties my old associates threw. No rampaging demons is always a plus in my book." Ignoring the puzzled look on her face, he spun her around the dance floor again.

--fin--


	2. Cookie Talk

Title: Cookie Talk  
Author: Gaeriel Mallory  
Rating: K  
Distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, The Haven, FF. net  
Disclaimer: Cordelia belongs to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, Inc. Alfred Pennyworth belongs to DC Comics, and Warner Brothers.  
Note: Written in response to TTH's Fic-for-all #551: Cordelia/Alfred Pennyworth.  
A semi-sequel to my first TTH story, "Guardian Angel".

-----------------------------------------

Alfred Pennyworth had gotten used to her presence in the Manor. He had even gotten used to her less than tactful manner and the heels she wore that left scuff marks all over his wooden floors. Maybe one day, he would become accustomed to her habit of popping out of thin air to visit.

Despite the lack of romantic entanglements between Miss Chase and Master Bruce after the JLA holiday party, Miss Chase had decided that she would personally watch over the well-being of the entire "family". He had feeling that this could be accomplished just fine from wherever she normally is when she isn't on Earth but did not mention his hunch to either Miss Chase or Master Bruce.

Alfred had started to look forward to her visits and the ever-present smile on her face. Maybe her company would do some good for Batman, as well, who was too withdrawn from everybody, even Alfred. He had welcomed Dick, Jason, and Tim, hoping they would bring some cheer back into Wayne Manor, and they had. Disturbingly, however, the Robins had ended up becoming more like Batman over time and any affect that they had on Batman was not as long-lasting as the reverse.

He had a good feeling about Batman's new Guardian Angel, though. Speaking of... He pulled the tray of cookies from the oven and smiled as he heard high heels clicking against the tile.

"Hiya, Alfred. How are you today?"

"I'm doing tolerably, Miss Chase. Cookie?"

Cordelia's eyes lit up. "Oooh, as if I would ever turn down your cookies." She sat down at the table as Alfred prepared a plate. She took one and bit into it, closing her eyes in appreciation. She waved at him to sit down, which he did reluctantly. He had learned very early on that if he didn't, she would keep at him until he joined her. "So how is he? Still as broody as ever?"

Alfred chuckled softly and picked up a cookie himself. "He might have smiled earlier today."

"Real smile or Brucie-smile? And do you have witnesses?"

"A real smile, I do believe, and Master Tim saw it as well." Alfred smiled himself at the memory.

She nodded. "Good. I won my bet with Wesley, then." She grinned at Alfred's surprised face. "What do you think guardian angels do when we're not being all guardian-y? It gets pretty boring up there." She finished her cookie and got up. Brushing the crumbs from her fingers, she walked out of the kitchen. "I'm going downstairs now. Thanks for the cookie." She waved and disappeared around the corner.

Alfred shook his head fondly and ate another cookie. They were rather good, if he did say so himself.

--finis--


	3. Job Offer

Title: Job Offer  
Author: Gaeriel Mallory  
Rating: K+  
Fandoms: BtVS/Batman (comics)  
Continuity: Set sometime after the Officer Down storyline.  
Distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, The Haven  
Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, Inc. or DC Comics and Warner Brothers.  
Note: Written in response to TTH's Fic-for-all #1810 – Buffy/Jim Gordon

* * *

Jim Gordon was taking his daily walk to help stay in shape. His doctor had recommended it as part of his recovery when he was shot and after he had retired from his post of Police Commissioner, he kept it up. It made the day pass quicker.

His cane beat against the pavement and he studied the rooftops. He was currently in downtown Gotham on his way to visit Barbara. He had purposefully gotten off the bus five blocks away from the Clocktower in order to get his exercise – imagine, his needing to exercise! – and shuffled along, another face in a crowd of many.

Ahead of him, he noted a blond woman standing against a store window, studying a map. She frowned and looked up at the street signs and sighed. Stuffing the map into her bag, she walked down the sidewalk, in the same direction that Jim was headed. His eyes narrowed as he noticed two men converge on either side of her and push her into an alleyway.

Even retired, the old cop instincts were still good. He ran, cane and old gunshot injury bedamned. Of course, his body didn't agree and he half-collapsed against the wall of the alley. "Stop!" he gasped, trying to catch his breath. "Leave her—"

The scene he saw was not the one he expected. An intended mugging, rape, or murder: yes. Not the young woman who couldn't have been much bigger than five foot three beating the crap out of her two would-be attackers. He winced as the head of one collided with the brick of the wall with a sharp crack. She spun around and the heel of her boot connected with the groin of the other. As he crumpled to the ground, she rammed an elbow down into his face and blood spurted from his nose. His eyes rolled into his head and he fell gracelessly onto the dirty concrete.

She looked up at Jim standing at the mouth of the alley and smirked. "Thanks but I had it covered."

"I can see that." He straightened up and gripped his cane tighter. "I don't think I need to give you the lecture about how this isn't the safest city for a young woman to go wandering alone in."

She laughed. "No. But since you're here, can you tell me where the Clocktower is? I've been turned around all day."

"Funny coincidence. I'm heading there myself. My daughter lives there."

"I'm meeting a consultant for my work."

Her name was Buffy, of all things. She had a cell phone in her bag so he called the station and had a car come pick up the two men lying in the alleyway. One of the officers who showed up whistled when he saw the scene. "Remind me never to piss you off, lady."

It's funny how little time had passed since his retirement, and yet still so much. He once knew every officer in the GCPD by name and rank. Both officers were unknown to him, if not the other way around. He chuckled at the hero worship in their eyes when they spoke to him.

Perps arrested and statements given, Jim and Buffy continued on their way. She seemed intelligent, though she had an odd way of speaking sometimes. She told him that she worked for a private security firm with offices located worldwide. He told her a little bit about his life as a police officer and eventually the Commissioner.

Eventually, the inevitable came up. "So what was it like working with a vigilante?"

He shook his head. Everyone was fascinated by the Batman. He drew tourists to the city when by rights, any sane person would have stayed far away from a town with a reputation for costumed psychos, murders, and thieves. "It was an experience," he told her. "I don't get a lot of respect outside of Gotham because I relied so much on him, but cleaning up this city would have been impossible without him and his partners."

"You used unorthodox methods to get results. I gotta admire that. What did your people have to say about it?"

"Oh, they each had their own opinions. I can't say that not a few of them held an intense dislike for Batman. But they tolerated him because I made it clear about Batman's place in the city."

"I'm sure they respected you too. You're a legend."

So she too had seen the awe in the two officer's faces. They arrived at the Clocktower and Jim pressed the button to call up to Barbara's apartment. She buzzed them in. In the elevator, Jim turned to Buffy. "What floor?"

She looked at a piece of paper she took from her pocket. "The top, please."

When he didn't move, she frowned at him in puzzlement and pushed the button herself. The elevator began to move upward.

He asked, "Just who are you here to see anyway?"

"I wasn't given a name, just the address. It's the way things work in my business."

Yes. He had a sinking suspicion just what business it was, too. And he had always known, or at least guessed, what Barbara did herself. Research librarian, his ass.

Barbara met them at the door, her eyes wary behind her glasses. "Dad," she greeted him. "This is a surprise."

"I'm sure," Jim answered dryly. "I ran into this young lady on the way over. Her name's Buffy."

Buffy and Barbara shook hands. The blonde didn't blink at the wheelchair; point for her. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you," Buffy said. "Willow was raving about you. I really hope that you can help us upgrade our systems."

"I spoke with your boss, Rupert Giles, on the phone. He mentioned some specifics about your company. That you need the best encryption software I can design."

Jim rolled his eyes and excused himself to the kitchen. Let the two talk shop and think that he wasn't the wiser. He took his time, finding a pitcher of iced tea in the fridge. He poured three glasses and rummaged around in the cupboards until he found a package of cookies. He arranged those on a tray, grabbed some napkins, and walked back into the living room, making sure to thump his cane loudly on the hardwood floor.

The two looked up. Buffy smiled and got up to get the tray from him. "It was really lucky that I ran into you today, Jim. I had originally only hoped to hire Barbara but she mentioned that you've become ... bored with retired life."

Jim sank down into a plush chair and looked at Buffy. "Spit it out."

"How would you like a job teaching young minds about you know best?"

"Is there much call in international security for a retired cop?"

"You'd be surprised who and what we can use." Buffy smiled cheerily. "I can give you the specifics later but if you're interested, you can come visit our main headquarters in London. Free, all-expense paid trip to England – and no obligation to sign on with us."

Barbara looked back and forth between the two. "They're on the up and up, dad. I researched them myself. If you do decide to go, it will be definitely be an experience, though very different than what you're used to."

"Not that different, if half the stories I've heard about Gotham City are true." Buffy stared at him. "What do you say?"

He looked at his daughter and she stared back calmly at him, letting him make up his own mind. He turned towards Buffy and noticed that her eyes were older than her face, and touched with sadness and pain, and also hardness. What kind of life would make someone who couldn't be more than twenty-five have eyes like that? Did he even want to find out? "I'll come to London," he said finally, "but with the understanding that this is not a yes and that I can return home whenever I like."

Buffy grinned. "Of course. Though I do think you'd fit really well. You'd make a great Watcher."

He blinked. "What's a Watcher?"

--fin--


	4. Tea and Cookies

Title: Tea and Cookies  
Author: Gaeriel Mallory  
Rating: K+  
Fandoms: BtVS/Batman (comics)  
Continuity: Set sometime after the Officer Down storyline.  
Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, Inc. or DC Comics and Warner Brothers.  
Note: Written in response to TTH's Fic-for-all #2266 – Buffy/Barbara Gordon

* * *

Buffy gave Jim her business card and told him that she'd be in touch. He left soon after, a bemused look on his face. Barbara laughed as the door closed. "Poor Dad. He'll never know what hit him." 

"You took the fact that I offered your Dad a job pretty well. Considering what you know about the Council, I would think you'd do anything to keep him away from it." Buffy sat back down on the couch and looked across the coffee table at Barbara. "Just how much did Giles tell you anyway?"

The other woman sipped her iced tea. "Not too much actually. He was being necessarily vague and circumspect. Not one mention of vampires, demons, or magic."

Buffy frowned. "But how did—" She got up. "You're not evil are you? Because Giles swore to me that you weren't evil but he could be wrong. There's a first time for everything."

Barbara grinned and motioned for Buffy to sit back down. "I'm not evil. I'm just good friends with somebody who used to be in your line of work. He helped me out of a pretty bad spell. I figured I'd return the favor, which is why I returned your calls."

"That must be some friend. Does he have a name? I might know him. It's a pretty close group in the demon fighting world." Possible names and faces ran through Buffy's mind.

Barbara shook her head. "You probably do know him, but I won't tell you his name. He has his own secrets and if he wants to, he'll let you know when he's ready who he is."

Buffy pouted a bit but let it pass. "So will you help us?" she asked, changing the subject.

Barbara nodded. "I'll see what I can do. My other job keeps me pretty busy, though, so I can't give you a definite date for when I'll be done. From what I've seen, your systems can really use help. I hacked through them like they were tissue paper."

"Don't tell Willow that!" Buffy grinned ruefully. "She was so proud that she'd designed them all by herself. She got a job offer from a major company when she was still in high school, did you know that?"

"No offense to your friend. The protections and encryptions were good. They're better than what the government has on some of their secure files. But," Barbara smirked, "mine are better."

"So if you're such a computer whiz, why aren't you doing this as a full-time job and not just when someone comes along who catches your eye?" Buffy snagged a cookie and took a bite. Yum. Oreo.

"I like my day—well, night actually—job. And I can't exactly give it up because too many people count on me."

"What did you say you were again?"

"Computer research librarian." Barbara's face was innocent but Buffy looked at her suspiciously anyway.

"Why do I get the feeling you're a 'research librarian' the same way I work in 'international security'?" Buffy sighed and got up. "Well, it's been fun but I have to get going. Giles gave me a list of bookshops to look up and hunt through. We're still working to replace our library. The old one went boom a few years back."

"Let me know if you need any help," Barbara offered as she rolled her chair towards the door.

Buffy followed. "I'll e-mail you the list of books Giles would practically kill to get his hands on. Maybe you'll have more luck than me. Dusty old books and I don't really get along very well. Too many bad memories of high school."

Barbara laughed.

* * *

As soon as the door shut, a voice said softly, "Thank you." 

Barbara looked over her shoulder at Wesley. "I know how important secrets are, Wes." She steered towards the coffee table and gathered the remnants of the iced tea and cookies onto the tray.

Wesley reached across her wheelchair and lifted it and started walking towards the kitchen. "Nevertheless, thank you. It means a lot to me." He set the tray down next to the sink and turned towards Barbara. "I'm not ready to face them yet. There's too many questions they'd ask and I—I wouldn't be able to bear it."

She placed a hand on his arm. "You're stronger than you know."

He smiled weakly at her. "So are you."

Down the hallway, her computer beeped. She sighed and leaned back. "Well, duty calls."

"Yes, it does." He poured out the lukewarm tea and closed the bag of cookies. Barbara reminded herself to buy more for when J'onn next stopped by. He paused over the dishwasher. "Oh, when Buffy e-mails you, tell her that there's a copy of _Greymalkin's Bestiary_ in the secondhand bookshop on Somerset Boulevard. It's the ancient Greek translation."

She smiled and headed towards her workroom. "Will do." She lifted her headset and pressed a key on her keyboard. "Oracle here," she greeted whoever had sent her the S.O.S.

--fin--


	5. Interrogation?

Title: Interrogation? Author: Gaeriel Mallory  
Rating: K+  
Fandoms: BtVS/Batman (comics)  
Continuity: Set sometime after the Officer Down storyline.  
Distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, The Haven  
Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, Inc. or DC Comics and Warner Brothers.  
Note: Written in response to TTH's Fic-for-all #2268 – Cordelia/Bruce Wayne.

* * *

"What do you know about the Watcher's Council?" Bruce asked gruffly as soon as she entered the office.

Cordelia frowned and stuck her tongue out at the top of his head. "Well hello to you too." She threw herself into the loveseat set against the wall and glared at where he was sitting at the desk. "You know, normal people look at someone when they're talking to them."

She heard the tap of the pen being set down against the oak desk and he sat back. "Better?" he asked with a glare.

She grinned at him, refusing to give in to his bad mood. "Much." She leaned against the arm of the couch and crossed her legs. "Why do you want to know about the Council anyway? Last I heard, they had gotten themselves blown up. I overheard some gossip about how they were trying to rebuild but," she shrugged, "it's pretty slow going."

"They just offered a friend of mine a job."

"It's not Dick is it? Because there is no way he's leaving for the land of tweed. Wes and I have too much staked on our bet."

"No, it's not Dick." Cordelia watched, amused, as his face contorted. "Bet?"

"On how long it takes for him and Barbara to get their act together and admit that they want to jump each other's bones." Off his look, she snorted. "Oh, like it's any secret that he's had a crush on her since middle school, and that she used to write 'Mrs. Richard Grayson' in her school notebooks. She probably still would if she had a need for notebooks, with little hearts and everything."

He rubbed his forehead. "The Watcher's Council?"

She smirked at the almost pleading tone in his voice. She'd break him yet! "They trained the Slayer, kept lots of really really old books, wore lots of tweed, and for the most part had gigantic sticks shoved up their butts. Did you know that they actually forced Giles to give Buffy some drug that made her lose her powers? And then set some psycho vamp on her? I mean, what kind of sickos do that?"

"Buffy? Buffy Summers?"

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Oh please don't tell me you know Miss I-Can-Decapitate-A-Vamp-With-My-Thumb-But-Can't-Coordinate-My-Shoes-and-Jacket."

"She was the one who offered Jim the job. Barbara told me."

Cordelia perked up. "Jim Gordon? The retired cop? Hey, he would totally make a great Watcher. He'd actually care and not try and get all the Slayers killed on their eighteenth birthdays."

"So you think this is a good thing?"

"Well, sure. From what I've heard, Giles needs all the help they can get. They're still trying to get the rest of the Council funds out of the Swiss bank accounts so they actually do some of the stuff they were planning. And with about a thousand Slayers now, they can really use the moola." She looked at him speculatively. "Hey, you might want to think about slipping them a few million or so. It's not like you'd miss it either, Mister Third Richest Man in the World."

He cleared his throat and glared at her. She smirked, knowing that by the end of the week, Giles would have a very fat check on his desk.

"Jim would be good for them," she continued. "Giles needs someone there his age and the girls need someone who can tell them about how to analyze crime scenes and be all detective-y. It's hard training teenagers to save the world, but you'd already know that."

Bruce grunted and his looked down at the papers in front of him. She mentally upped Giles' check by another digit and grinned. "Hey," she said as she got up, "I'm going to say hi to Alfred. I'll have him send you some food. You do realize you missed lunch, right?" She waved at the secretary on her way out, and informed Beth that Mr. Wayne had a giant craving for a large mug of hot cocoa with marshmallows and some cookies, preferably chocolate chip.

She loved her job.

--fin--


	6. Face in the Painting

TITLE: Face in the PaintingAUTHOR: Gaeriel Mallory  
RATING: K+  
FANDOMS: Angel/BtVS/DC Comics (Batman)  
DISCLAIMER: All characters are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, Inc. or DC Comics and Warner Brothers.  
SUMMARY: Alfred and Wesley and a painting in Wayne Manor.  
NOTE: Written in response to TTH's Fic-for-all #1882 – Wesley Wyndham-Price/Alfred Pennyworth.

------------------------------

Alfred was surprised to see the figure in the mansion. While Miss Chase often stopped by, Mr. Wyndham-Pryce tended to spend his time on earth at the Clocktower. Wesley was studying a painting in the hallway in the library, his forehead furrowed as his eyes seemed to memorize the woman depicted.

"She was a Slayer," he said without turning around.

"Indeed," Alfred answered mildly, moving to stand behind the other man. The young woman was dressed in clothes from the middle of the nineteenth century, and very well-made and expensive clothing at that. A very large and ornate silver cross hung around her neck. The plaque underneath the painting identified her as "Miss Caroline Weatherly". "I do believe she was an ancestor of Master Bruce's. A many-times great aunt, if I recall correctly." He clasped his hands behind his back. "How did you conclude that Miss Weatherly was a Slayer?"

"She's holding a bottle of holy water in her hand."

And so she was. Once pointed out, Alfred noticed the small vial that Caroline clutched loosely in her right hand, almost nonchalantly. It had a black cross depicted on the glass. "That still does not prove that she was anything but eccentrically devout."

Wesley nodded. "True, but taken with the cross and the fact that I read her Watcher's diary back when I was at the Academy, I thought it was a fairly solid conclusion." His lips curled up. "A little ironic, that: the Batman having a Slayer in his family tree, no matter how far back." He turned towards Alfred and quirked an eyebrow. "You are aware that there are some who consider him a demon?"

Alfred answered dryly, "The rumors had reached me, yes."

Wesley had returned his attention to the painting. "Her Watcher had to train her in secret because of her wealthy family and their prominent place in society. She had died when she was seventeen, I think. Her death was officially declared an attack by rabid dogs, though how a pack could have made its way into the heart of London was never questioned."

There really was not much Alfred could say in response to that. He hmmed noncommittally and sighed.

"The Council approached Jim Gordon." It was a statement, not a question and Mr. Wyndham-Pryce's eyes remained firmly on Caroline Weatherly's face.

"Yes." Alfred was not surprised that Wesley knew. The guardian angel grapevine seemed to work faster than the Gotham underworld one.

"He'd make a good Watcher," Wesley said. "Any Slayer would be lucky to have him." He looked at Alfred again. "Tell Bruce that. It might quiet some of his reservations." He glowed a brilliant white before disappearing.

Alfred was left standing alone in the library. He contemplated Caroline Weatherly, forever seventeen and smiling at an unseen viewer. "I wonder if your Watcher felt like I feel, every night as I watch them go out into the dark," he said quietly to the painting. He reached up and gently brushed away the nearly invisible layer of dust on the plaque, fingers lingering over the engraved letters. "Rest in peace, my lady."

He bowed at Miss Weatherly and exited the library, closing the doors firmly behind him.

--fin--


	7. Cheques and Balances

Title: Cheques and Balances  
Author: Gaeriel Mallory  
Rating: K+  
Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, Inc. or DC Comics and Warner Brothers.

------------------------------

The envelope had arrived with the morning mail. Rupert Giles almost passed it by but he opened it. The contents left him stunned. He counted the zeroes on the cheque. He counted them again. Only after the third time did it sink in that a very large sum of money had just been given to the Watchers Council from Bruce Wayne with no letter of explanation. Bruce Wayne—not Wayne Enterprises, despite the logo on the envelope. The cheque was from the man's private chequebook and not a company account.

His hands shook as he placed the piece of paper reverently back into the envelope and set it aside. Glancing at the clock on his desk, he realized that it was far too early to be making trans-Atlantic telephone calls. It may be the start of the working day in London, but it was still an ungodly hour for the Eastern Seaboard of the United States, where Gotham City was located.

Just how would Bruce Wayne have learned about the Council anyway? Giles took off his glasses and polished them with his handkerchief. Buffy was currently in Gotham liaising with Willow's computer expert—could she have been in contact with the billionaire? Surely she would have said something in her daily phone calls...

He sighed and pressed a button on his intercom. "Virginia," he said to his secretary, "please get me all the information you can about Bruce Wayne and Wayne Enterprises, particularly any reason why he might take an interest in the Council."

"Right away, Mr. Giles."

He ignored the work that was waiting for him—utility bills for the temporary London headquarters, messages from real estate agents, letters from various Slayers and Watchers from around the world, catalogues from auction houses, correspondence with lawyers regarding Council funds—and picked up the phone. Giles might not want to wake up the billionaire playboy who had just gifted his organization with enough money to buy several permanent headquarters, but he had no qualms about waking up his Slayer.

"If it's an apocalypse, I'm not here," Buffy mumbled into the phone.

He grinned fondly but moved right to the point. "Do you happen to know why Bruce Wayne has just given the Council half a billion dollars?"

A thump came through the phone and he heard some cloth rustling. Buffy's voice came back breathless and much more awake. "Half a _billion_ dollars? I have no clue why, or even who he is, but he must be seriously loaded if he's tossing that much money around."

"Bruce Wayne, Buffy. He's the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, whose main building is located in Gotham City."

"I—huh. That's a weird coincidence, isn't it?"

"I'd say it is. I don't suppose you might have inadvertently mentioned something to someone who would have told Wayne?"

"I only talked to Barbara—she's Willow's computer expert—and her father, Jim Gordon. He's the retired police Commissioner. I offered him a job."

"Watcher?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of teaching detective skills to the Slayers. I don't think he's quite up to the active Watcher life. He retired from a gunshot wound and I don't think he's ever going to fully recover from it."

"Fair enough." Giles tapped the edge of his desk with a pen. "Do you suppose that there is a connection between Gordon and Wayne? They're both important members of the community."

He could almost hear her frown. "I don't know. I'll see what I can dig up. In the morning." She yawned loudly.

He chuckled at the blatant hint. "Of course. Go back to sleep, Buffy."

Virginia delivered a file folder full of papers to him before lunchtime. He perused its contents as he ate but did not find much too noteworthy: orphaned young, his parents victims of a violent crime to which he was the only witness. Unfortunate yes, but this did not lead Giles to any clue as to why there was a large sum of money given to the Council.

Around three-thirty, he allowed himself to dial the number for Wayne Enterprises. After talking to several different secretaries, each higher up than the last, he was finally connected to Bruce Wayne's personal assistant, who introduced herself as Beth. "I'm sorry, but Mr. Wayne hasn't come in yet today."

"It's ten-thirty over there. How on earth can the owner of one of the largest corporations in the world not be in his office?" When the woman on the other end stammered, he sighed. "And just when does he normally come in?"

"Well, that depends," she answered hesitantly. "If you want, I can transfer you to Lucius Fox, the CEO of Wayne Enterprises."

"I'm afraid not. It happens to be a personal matter. This is Rupert Giles from the International Watchers Council. I received some correspondence from Mr. Wayne that I need to speak to him about."

He heard some papers rustling and some sighs before Beth came back onto the line. "Mr. Giles? Mr. Wayne asked me to give you his personal number if you happened to call. Do you have a pen and paper handy?"

After he answered her in the affirmative, Beth rattled off a string of numbers that he scribbled down on the precious envelope. "That's his home number," she told him. "But if you can't reach him there, here's his cell." After that, she then gave him the phone number for Mr. Wayne's butler, "just in case."

Giles thanked her and hung up. First there was the cheque. Then there was the less-than-subtle provisions to make sure that Giles would be able to contact Mr. Wayne as soon as possible. Giles started imagining frightening possibilities for just why an American billionaire would take an interest in the Council. With most of the old guard dead, there was a very large power vacuum within the organization. Did Wayne think he could buy his way in? How much did he know about the Council? It was with some trepidation that he dialed the first number.

The voice that answered came from an ocean away but could have been from just in front of the Council building, which surprised Giles. "Wayne Manor."

"Bruce Wayne, please." Giles drummed his fingers against his desk.

"May I ask who is calling?"

"This is Rupert Giles from the Watchers Council in London."

"Ah, yes. Master Wayne is expecting your call. If you'll please hold?"

A click came over the line followed by a few seconds of silence before another click and a man's voice cheerfully saying, "Mr. Giles? So good to hear from you. You got the money I sent you, I take it?"

Giles cleared his throat. "Yes, I did. I had some questions for you about that. It's a very large sum of money and one has to wonder about your motivations. I can assure you that if you think you can influence us in any way, you are sorely mistaken."

Wayne had the cheek to laugh. "There are no strings attached, Mr. Giles. I learned about your organization and what it does, as well as your money troubles. Consider it a donation to your cause."

"A very generous donation," Giles observed dryly. "May I ask just where you got your information from?"

"Let's just say some friends. They would prefer to remain anonymous." There was a slight edge of warning in the tone of his voice, at odds with the carefree man who had answered the phone just a few minutes before.

Giles let the subject drop. He sighed heavily as he sat back in his chair. "Well, then, I would have to extend my most sincere thanks, Mr. Wayne. Though we do have high hopes for getting to the Council funds, this will definitely help us out until then."

"If I may ask a favor?"

Giles tensed. Just what does half a billion dollars buy in the mind of Bruce Wayne? "Yes," he answered warily.

"Jim Gordon. He's going to London next week to see what your organization has to offer."

Giles hmmmed noncommittally.

"Don't pressure him into accepting anything. Just let him decide for himself."

"Gordon's a friend of yours then?"

"If anything happens to him, you'll find out just how well connected I am." The playboy was completely gone and the phone line nearly hummed with quiet menace.

Despite the threat, Giles had to chuckle. "Message received, Mr. Wayne."

After he hung up, Giles placed the cheque back into the envelope with a scribbled note for Peter in finance. Placing it into his 'out' box, he then flipped through his calendar and circled the date of Gordon's arrival. He wanted to see just what made Gordon so special to make a man like Bruce Wayne, who arguably moved in different social circles than a former police commissioner, so loyal.

--fin--


	8. House Call

Title: House Call  
Author: Gaeriel Mallory  
Rating: K+  
Disclaimer: Not mine.  
Notes: This installment has been a long time coming. I apologize for that. Hopefully, it won't take eight months for another part.

* * *

The house was enormous – though calling it a house would only make the other houses feel inadequate. The _mansion _was enormous, Buffy corrected in her head.

The cabbie looked over his shoulder at her. "You sure this is the place?" he asked dubiously.

She smiled at him. "Yeah, I'm sure." She handed him a twenty and a ten and got out of the car, smoothing the skirt of her suit as she did so. The taxi drove back down the long driveway, leaving Buffy alone in front of the mansion. Gripping her briefcase, she marched resolutely up the steps and rang the doorbell.

The man who answered was elderly, though still tall and slender, with a thin mustache gracing his upper lip. His voice was even fuller of British-tweed than Giles's.

"Sorry to drop in, but I'm Buffy Summers from the International Watchers Council. Is Bruce Wayne at home?"

She noted how Alfred Pennyworth's eyes sharpened when she said her name, and how he studied her more intensely. He let her inside and showed her to a room that was larger than the old high school library. "I'll tell Master Bruce that you're here," he murmured as he left, closing the door firmly behind him.

Buffy gingerly sat down on a couch and placed her briefcase down by her feet. About a minute later, she shot back up to her feet as the door opened again and pasted a smile onto her face.

Bruce Wayne was definitely not what she was expecting. Handsome, yes, but his well-tailored suit covered a frame that a linebacker would envy. And that vapid smile wasn't fooling her in the slightest. Intelligence lurked behind those baby blues, as well as a hardness that no amount of acting could ever hide completely.

The butler followed, wheeling in a tea service. Buffy waited until he had handed her a cup of tea and exited again before she spoke. "Does anyone actually buy the act you put on?"

Wayne's brows scrunched together in mock confusion, but she saw the quick flash of alarm in his eyes. "What ever do you mean, Miss Summers?" He allowed his eyes to linger on her legs, well showcased in her pantyhose, if she did say so herself.

She refused to be distracted though. Buffy pshed in exasperation. "Please, I perfected the dumb blonde act in high school. Like you can fool me with the stupid playboy routine." She set her cup down on the table and leaned back in the couch, crossing her arms. "I refuse to talk to the Brucie that appears in the tabloids. Where's the Bruce Wayne, head of Wayne Enterprises, who gives millions of dollars to charities and threatened my boss this morning in a very oh-not-so-subtle way?"

The mask held for a few more seconds before it was dropped and Buffy saw the real Bruce Wayne. His smile melted away and he sat up straighter. His eyes became cold and the hardness she had noticed earlier came to the forefront. "You came here to talk. So talk." Even his voice was harsher, with an edge.

She pursed her lips. "You gave my organization a very large sum of money with very little explanation. Sorry to be so cynical and paranoid, but just what are you expecting from us in exchange for your…" she paused slightly, "_donation_?"

"For you to use that money to rebuild your organization so that it benefits the Watchers, the Slayers, and those they protect. I ask nothing more."

"I find that very hard to believe, Mr. Wayne. People don't just throw around half a billion dollars and expect absolutely nothing for themselves."

Wayne's eyes glinted. "I expect to be able to wake up tomorrow morning and find the world still there and the human race still enduring. I think that is a worthwhile use of my money."

Buffy sat back and studied the man sitting opposite her. "You're just full of surprises. Most people wouldn't go to great lengths to hide their true selves, or contribute a large part of their fortune to a little-known group of tweed-wearing book nerds in Britain."

"I'm not most people." No emotion showed on his face and she frowned in annoyance.

"Obviously." The Brucie act was almost better than this stone wall she was talking to – almost. "You saw your parents violently murdered in front of you when you a kid. Years later, you take in a circus boy whose parents were killed in a trapeze accident."

"It wasn't an accident," he cut in sharply.

She sighed. "No, it wasn't. You're obviously more than the face you show to the world, and for some reason, you've decided to adopt a male bimbo act when it's obvious you're more intelligent than that. Now, the question is, why." Buffy frowned as her brain connected the dots. "I pretended to be dumb to get out of research and to lull the baddies into a false sense of security. But I also used it to hide who I really was from the world because who would expect li'l ol' me to be a big bad Slayer? So what, Mr. Wayne, are you hiding from the world that you need to pretend to be someone you're not?"

"You're very perceptive," he said mildly.

"I did get a 1430 on my SATs. I'm more than just a pretty face." She leaned back in her seat and smiled cheerfully at his not-quite scowl.

"Most people know it's not wise to threaten the third richest man in the world," he told her.

"Now who said anything about threatening? I'm just merely making an observation that people who wear masks, like you and me for example, often have something they want to hide." Buffy suppressed a grin at the sour look on his face. No one threatens her Watcher and gets away with it! After watching him smugly for a few seconds, she decided to let him off the hook. "Look. I'm sure we can come to an acceptable agreement. We're two reasonable adults, after all. I won't tell if you won't."

He glared at her, and she could almost hear his back molars grinding together. "I think that's fair," he finally said in a flat voice.

"You understand that this is necessary, right? We just spent a lot of time getting rid of all the corruption in the Council. Granted, a lot of that corruption went boom a few years back…" Buffy pursed her lips in thought. "Anyway, we just want to make sure that nothing upsets all our efforts and all that. And, we are willing to give you a little tit for tat." She pulled a business card out of the inner pocket of her suit jacket and handed it to him. "Here's a number you can call if you find yourself with something on your hands that you can't deal with by yourself. We're willing to provide information, backup, instructions for how to make your own holy water – whatever you need. I doubt you'll need to use it too often. The Batman has enough of a rep that demons pretty much stay clear of Gotham, but just in case."

Wayne glanced down at the card before slipping it into his breast pocket. "I'll keep it in mind. But Gotham is my city and you will do well to remember that, Miss Summers."

She smirked. "Yeah, like we'll ever forget it, what with the giant bat nightlight. You do like putting your mark on things. _Bat_mobile, _bat_arang – do you have a bat sewn into your undies too?"

A corner of his mouth twitched almost imperceptibly. If she hadn't been watching for it, she wouldn't even have known. Instead, he pressed his lips more firmly together. "If you want, you can use some of that money I gave your organization to invest in a Slayer-mobile," he commented mildly.

Buffy resisted the sudden urge to laugh. He jokes! Granted, it was a pretty lame joke but he had a sense of humor. It just took a lot of digging to find it. She leaned forward expectantly. "So tell me something: how do you get the Kevlar to stop chafing? Andrew, in a fit of geekitude, designed the Slayers a battle uniform and Rona made the mistake of putting it on to get him to shut up. She had the worst rash."

He moved closer to her. "You really want to know?" He lowered his voice to just above a whisper. "Talcum powder. I've bought stock in that stuff."

* * *

Standing in the hallway outside of Bruce's study in Wayne Manor, Cordelia smirked at the hovering Wesley and Alfred. "Pay up, you two."

Wesley muttered as he dropped a twenty-dollar bill into her outstretched hand. "You'd think I'd learn better than to bet against you."

Alfred's money landed in her palm. "Indeed," he sniffed. He cast a fond eye at the door, through which two voices, one male and the other female, could be heard laughing. His lips curved upward. "Still, that is a very welcome sound. It's been far too long."


	9. Metropolis Interlude

TITLE: Metropolis Interlude  
AUTHOR: Gaeriel Mallory  
RATING: K+  
FANDOMS: Buffy/Angel/DC Comics  
DISCLAIMER: Buffy, Angel, and related characters belong to Joss Whedon. All DC Comics characters belong to DC Comics and Warner Brothers.  
SUMMARY: The Scoobies are in Metropolis on a mission.

* * *

Faith shifted from foot to foot, trying to get used to the fancy heels she was wearing. Willow frowned over at her. "Stop fidgeting," she hissed.

The Slayer resisted sticking out her tongue at her friend. "I can't help it," she whispered back. "I'm not used to these fancy schmancy things. I don't schmooze well."

Willow rolled her eyes and snagged two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter. She passed one to Faith. "Drink this. It might calm you down some."

The bubbles tickled her nose and she grimaced at the taste. After taking a few sips, she discretely dumped the remaining liquid into a potted plant next to the corner where she and Willow were standing. The witch, damn her, seemed to be enjoying the sissy drink. Where was the whiskey? Hell, what about a beer? Faith sighed. Why did Giles think this would be a good assignment for her? She tugged at her dress, some black flowy evening gown with wispy not-quite-sleeves covering her shoulders. It looked fabulous on her, and more than a few appreciative male glances had been thrown her way. She would have killed to be in jeans and a tee.

Xander strolled over towards them, Dawn on his arm. "And how are my two lovely wall flowers doing?" he asked with a grin. Even Mr. Hawaiian Shirt seemed comfortable in his tux. It wasn't fair!

Willow saluted him with her glass. "No sign."

Dawn shook her head in disgust. "Us too." She blew a strand of hair out of her face. "How much would it suck if we came this whole way and don't find a single trace of them?"

Faith felt a familiar presence and looked up across the room. "B just showed up with some major eye candy," she announced.

The group turned towards the entrance. Buffy walked down the ballroom steps, arm in arm with a dark-haired man whom the photographers seemed to recognize. She was certain B was completely blinded by the flashes by the time they reached the bottom of the staircase.

Dawn sucked in her breath. "Isn't that—?"

"Yup." Willow looked thoughtful. "I guess her meeting better than expected."

Faith and Xander exchanged slightly exasperated glances. "Someone care to let the rest of us in on the little secret?" he asked.

"That's Bruce Wayne," Dawn explained.

Faith's jaw dropped. "No shit! That's the guy who gave us all that money?"

"The one and the same." Dawn grinned and waved as her sister spotted them.

"Now why can't I snag myself a billionaire hottie?" Faith grumbled.

"You might," Xander said. "Luthor's going to be here, after all."

Faith made a rude noise as her answer.

Xander laughed. "Well, I'm going to see if I can steal Buffy away from the pretty rich boy." He waved as he walked away. "I'll be back in a few."

Dawn looked around. "Why aren't there any chairs? My feet are killing me."

Faith nodded in sympathy. Next time they needed to torture information out of a demon, she was going to recommend making it wear high heels. She discretely slipped one foot out of a shoe and flexed it, trying to get some feeling back into her toes. Big mistake. It just made it that much more painful once she put the heel back on. Heel – just one 'L' away from hell. She had no idea how Buffy and some of the mini-Slayers wore these things normally, let alone on patrol. Give her a good ol' pair of boots any day.

Xander and Buffy headed back towards their little corner, talking and laughing. Wayne trailed behind them, smiling bemusedly. "Aw shit," Faith muttered to Willow. "I thought Xan would have ditched the civilian."

Willow shrugged but didn't have time to respond before the trio joined them. "Hey, guys," Buffy greeted them. "This is Bruce."

The man smiled politely at them all, though Faith noticed that his eyes were a little too assessing as they passed over them. She wasn't by nature a trusting person and Brucie was setting off little warning bells in the pit of her stomach. This guy wasn't who he appeared to be and that could be very very dangerous.

Buffy's next words even made her more wary. "He knows."

Faith glared at Wayne. "You evil?" she demanded. She noted absently that everyone other than Buffy was also giving him the evil eye. The guy looked startled at the question, which might have been a good thing except that Buffy's last boytoy had been a really good actor and had them all fooled until it was almost too late. They ended up having to cut off his head. That had been one freaky-deaky light show.

It was kind of a running joke in the Council that all of Buffy's dates will turn evil and Xander's dates will try to eat him. After she and Robin were splitsville, Dawn had said to her, "We're Scoobies. We don't have normal relationships. We don't get the happily ever afters because either the other person is too normal to deal, or they're in the same line of work and end up dead." This had been after more than a few shots of tequila and the two of them had needed to call a cab at the end of the night to get back to Council HQ. It was one of their more maudlin moments; one that she had never told Buffy about because while the drinking age in the UK might have been eighteen, Dawn will be forever fourteen in big sis's eyes.

Faith dragged her attention back to the present. "No… I'm not evil," Wayne answered slowly. He glanced over at Buffy, who rolled her eyes.

"Seriously guys," she said, "tone it down a notch or twelve."

Xander looked at Willow, who looked at Buffy, and then finally nodded slowly back at Xander. Faith was amused at the wordless exchange but felt a bit left out as well. While she was one of the "inner circle," she was not and never will be one of the original Scoobies.

The one-eyed man gazed for a long time at Wayne before extending his hand. When the billionaire clasped it, Xander pulled him forward and growled in his ear, "I don't know what your game is, but I'm sure you have one. Hurt her and I'll rip off your arms and use them to break your legs." He released the other man's hand and stepped back with a grin that was more goofy than menacing.

Willow pouted. "Aw, I wanted to give the shovel speech."

Xander slung an arm around her shoulder. "Don't worry, Will. When Dawnie goes on her next date, you can make the threats and I'll just stand there and glare."

Dawn squealed and jabbed Xander in stomach. "No threatening my boyfriends!"

Buffy was laughing. "Ignore them," she told her date.

Wayne had the dazed look on his face that an outsider always got after being in the same room with the group for a while. "The fate of the world," he murmured to Buffy. "I think we're doomed."

Faith snorted with amusement. "Well, we ain't no Justice League but we get the job done." She nudged Buffy. "At least this one has a sense of humor."

For some reason, the two of them seemed to find that extremely funny. Their eyes danced with silent laughter. Suddenly, Wayne straightened and he looked off to his right. "Excuse me," he told them. "There's someone I need to talk to." He walked away and greeted a dark-haired couple, he wearing glasses and she in a purple dress.

When he was reasonably out of earshot, Dawn poked Buffy in the arm. "So, are you guys dating? What's up?"

Buffy shook her head. "No, though we did have dinner. We mainly talked about Council stuff. It turned out he was also coming to this thing so we just came together, considering it was just silly to travel separately from Gotham to Metropolis."

Willow asked, "So he's on the up and up?"

Buffy nodded. "Yup. One hundred percent not evil, though I wouldn't certify him as one hundred percent sane. Oh!" She dug into her purse and handed Willow a business card. "Here's that computer specialist's contact info. She said she'd take the job but wanted to talk to you first about your specifications, level of security you wanted, and a bunch of other techno-geek stuff I didn't quite get."

Willow took the card and nodded. "Great! That will be a huge relief, to know we have the best protection we can get on our files."

"And Xander, I have a new potential Watcher for you and Dawn to vet next week. I've already sent Giles all the info. He's actually Barbara's – um, that's Will's computer gal – he's her dad and used to be Gotham's Police Commissioner. He sounds like he'd be perfect to teach the newbies detective skills, how to work within the system if necessary, and even basic criminology. He'll be arriving in London next Thursday and staying for three days. No pressure on him; we want to stay on Barbara's good side, but definitely sign him up if we can."

Dawn nodded, jotting information down in a little notebook she pulled from her purse. "Good guy?"

"Oh, yeah. He has experience in unorthodox methods to get things done and with the things that he had to deal with in Gotham City, I think he should be able to acclimate to the Council's brand of special more or less fine."

"Isn't he the one who partnered with Batman?" Xander asked.

"Yeah. That's why I don't think he'll have too much of a problem letting others do the front line stuff. Bruce vouches for him."

Faith noticed that Wayne's friend, Glasses, was staring at them and didn't seem to be paying attention to the conversation going on between his date and Wayne. She frowned and was about to say something when her Slayer sense kicked in. Buffy stiffened as well. "I think our guys just showed up," she said to the group.

Buffy nodded. "Let's try and do this as quietly as possible."

The group walked swiftly towards the staircase, Buffy and Faith in the lead. They ignored the indignant gasps and mutters as they pushed their way through the crowd. Walking down the steps where three figures, one female and two male. The two men's eyes widened when they noticed the Scoobies making their way towards them. The female just looked at them curiously. All three were dressed in formal evening wear.

Buffy and Faith each grasped one of the men by the arm and Willow more gently manhandled the woman back up the stairs and outside and into an empty side street. "Buffy! What do you think you're—" the darker-haired man burst out and the Slayer silenced him by tightening her grasp on his arm.

"You don't talk. You listen," she said fiercely. "First, I'm sorry about L.A. You don't know just how sorry we are, but we didn't know. Second, you can't go in there and ally yourself with the devil again. We won't let you."

"You think we don't know what Lex Luthor is? He was one of Wolfram & Hart's biggest human clients." Angel pulled his arm out of Buffy's hold and smoothed his tuxedo jacket, his movements jerky.

Spike spoke up. "We're not here to make a deal with him, though we led him to believe that. You don't leave jobs half-done. We cleaned up some and now we're finishing."

Dawn's eyes widened in surprise. "You're going to kill him?" she asked in shock.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, niblet. The man's evil, through and through. It don't matter that he ain't a demon."

Xander was shaking his head. "No, you don't understand, Spike. We don't kill humans."

The woman spoke up, her voice oddly flat. "The man is scum. You would have him live so that he will kill others himself? Your ethics are a fallacy."

"I'll grant you that, Blue," Faith spoke harshly. "But it's more than ethics or morals or what have you. Lorne sent us here." She nodded at the two vampires, acknowledging their reaction. "Yeah, he found us and told us what happened. He lost track of you after L.A. but one of our seers had a vision of tonight of you meeting up with Luthor. Lorne asked us to come because of what would happen."

"You die," Buffy stated flatly. "Luthor wasn't going to make a deal with you. He knew what you guys are and he had his guards ready. Illyria would get him and she'd survive, but you two would be dust."

The two vampires looked at each other. "We've come so far," Angel said. "We can't just stop now. Luthor has to go down."

"And he will," a voice said. Wayne stepped out of the shadows. "Trust me on this."

Faith was taken aback at the pure coldness in his eyes.

"Just who the hell are you?" Spike demanded.

"I'm one of the people who has been working on Luthor, along with some others." He nodded and his two friends appeared next to him.

Glasses and the woman studied the group of them and Faith wondered what they saw. Finally, the woman spoke. "I'm Lois Lane. This is my husband, Clark Kent. We're reporters for the _Daily Planet_ and we've been trying to expose Luthor for years."

Angel scoffed. "Reporters," he spat out. "Like you can do anything."

"We also have the backing of the Justice League," Kent said in a firm voice.

"Bunch of pansies in tights," Spike sneered. "Sometimes, if you want to get things done, you have to do it the hard way and get your hands dirty."

Faith almost didn't notice Angel nodding at Illyria. Before she could react, the woman's appearance changed. Her hair and skin tinged with blue and red armor took the place of her dress. Before they could react, she took off back towards the entrance, faster even than a Slayer could run. Before she made it more than a few meters, a wind whipped past them. Kent appeared in front of the god-king and grabbed her by the wrist. "I don't think so," he ground out between clenched teeth.

Illyria stared coldly into the man's face before leveling a punch that knocked Kent into the side of the building. The wall shattered slightly and dust rained down. Before it had settled, she and the two vampires were gone.

Lex Luthor was getting into his limo. "Well, they didn't kill him," Lane observed. Her husband leaned wearily against her, rubbing his neck with a grimace.

"Let's hope that something we said made it into their heads," Buffy said wearily.

Faith remained silent as the rest of the group talked. She had been working so hard on redemption and Angel had been the one who had started her down that path. What had happened during his time in charge of Wolfram & Hart to change him? And Spike? She sighed and kicked off her heels. The party was over and she didn't need to look pretty any more. She dumped the shoes into a trash can happily.

"So, Superman, huh?"

Xander's question caught her attention. She smirked when she saw Kent blush slightly.

"Well, you know," the reporter shrugged lamely while Lane smacked him lightly on the shoulder.

Faith laughed and flung her arms around Dawn and Xander, pulling them down the street. "Come on," she said. "I'm beat and my feet hurt. Let's get outta here."

Willow grinned. "I couldn't agree more. We can exchange stories at the hotel and check in with Giles."

Before they could even think of hailing a cab, Wayne raised his arm and gestured. A limousine rolled down the street towards them. Buffy said, "I guess it's good to know a billionaire."

The driver got out, a thin reedy looking guy in the stereotypical chauffeur uniform, and opened the door. "Master Bruce, Miss Summers," he said in a British accent. "Mister Kent, Ms. Lane." His eyes roved over the rest of the group and Faith got the impression he already knew who they were.

Wayne gestured everyone in. It was a tight fit, but they managed after Wayne elected to sit up front with Alfred, the chauffeur.

Faith nearly groaned with relief when she sat down, glad to get off her feet. Her toes dug luxuriously into the lush carpet of the vehicle. It had been one hell of a night, and it wasn't over by a long shot.

--fin--


	10. Conversations in a Hotel Room

TITLE: Conversations in a Hotel Room  
AUTHOR: Gaeriel Mallory  
RATING: K+  
FANDOMS: Buffy/Angel/DC Comics  
DISCLAIMER: Buffy, Angel, and related characters belong to Joss Whedon. All DC Comics characters belong to DC Comics and Warner Brothers.  
SUMMARY: Information is begrudgingly shared.

* * *

Cordelia stood in the corner of the sitting area of the lavish hotel suite, watching as her friends - old and new - filed in. Beside her, Wesley leaned against the wall, his face unreadable. They were both invisible to the other inhabitants of the room.

An awkward silence hung in the air as the two groups avoided looking at each other. The Sunnydale survivors clustered together on the couch. Bruce and his reporter friends, Clark Kent and Lois Lane, stood on the other side of the sitting area. Everyone started when Alfred entered, wheeling in a coffee and tea service cart from the kitchenette.

Bruce cleared his throat. "Let's start with what I know. You," he motioned to Buffy, "are the Slayer, a mystical warrior destined to fight demons." At her nod, he moved on. "So that means you are Faith," he pointed towards the brunette, "another Slayer." He was silent for a long time as he studied the remaining three. "Willow, right?" he finally asked.

The witch nodded, her eyes narrowed slightly as she studied the man who had just identified her.

"Which makes you Xander," Bruce said towards the one-eyed man, "and Dawn," he added, turning towards the younger woman.

Cordelia giggled slightly at the petulant glare Xander gave Bruce. "So you did your homework," Xander said. "You get a shiny gold star."

Alfred began pouring cups of coffee. "If I may be so bold," he said, "perhaps we should try to rise above the innate suspiciousness that is necessary in our lines of work."

"And just what does a butler have to be suspicious about?" Dawn asked.

Alfred smirked. "You have no idea, young Miss Summers."

Dawn scowled in return and slouched down, crossing her arms over her chest. Before she could respond, Buffy stepped forward. "Enough," she said. "Alfred's right. We all have our secrets here, and we're all used to keeping them."

Xander leapt up. "And this is a time for the big reveal?" He started pacing the strip of floor between the sitting area and the bedroom. "God knows I trust you, Buffy, but we don't know these guys! Sure, one's Superman, but he's also a reporter. What's to keep him from making us front page news?

"And you!" He pointed at Bruce. "I'm still not sure what your game is, Mr. Rich Guy who gave us a ton of money. What do you want?"

As he was talking, Willow and Dawn both nodded along and glared at the Bruce and Clark. Bruce sighed and move his arm suddenly.

Faith leapt up and snatched the projectile out of the air. "Hey! What gives?" She started to move forward before Buffy stopped her. Wordlessly, the blond slayer took the hand that had caught the object and showed it to the other three Sunnydalers.

Beside her, Cordelia heard Wesley inhale sharply.

Willow reached out and gently traced the edge of the batarang and hissed when it cut her finger. She stuck her finger in her mouth and looked at Bruce with sudden understanding. "You're Batman," she said quietly.

Bruce said, "We have some mutual acquaintances who would rather keep their identities unknown. But they have assured us that you can be trusted, else we would not be standing here. We have the same goal: the preservation of Earth."

Buffy shook her head. "Slight correction. We aren't trying to preserve Earth, per se. That's your job, the big picture. We deal with the things that no one else wants to deal with because they don't want to acknowledge they're real. You guys fight out in the open, in big knock-down blow out battles on the streets, in the air, or in outer space. We fight in back alleyways, sewers, abandoned factories, and places no sane person would ever want to go after dark."

"So you save lives, too," Clark interjected, only to be brought silent by Buffy's look.

"Yes, but it's more. You save Earth. We try and save humanity." She sat back down and leaned into Dawn. "Slayers have been fighting for longer than there have been written records, one after the other." She slumped against her sister, weariness outlined in every muscle of her body. Xander reached over and clasped her shoulder, and Willow squeezed her hand.

Cordelia sighed wistfully at the closeness that they had, that she had never really been a part of even when she had been a Scooby. She noticed that Faith also had a slight yearning expression on her face as she watched the other four.

Willow looked up suddenly. "Wait, you said someone told you about us. Who?" She sat up, curiosity and a hint of suspicion back in her eyes.

Cordelia tensed, and felt Wesley do the same besides her. Both stared at Bruce, waiting for his move. They had decided before that if Bruce wanted to reveal just who his sources were, they would not interfere. The time for secrets was fast approaching an end.

But the billionaire shook his head. "That's something you'll have to find out on your own." Beside him, Clark sent him a puzzled look but did not speak.

Willow frowned and glared. "But-" Buffy stopped her with a hand on the arm. "It's okay, Will." She looked over at the other group. "Oddly enough, I trust them."

Xander shook his head. "No offense, Buff, but sometimes your gut instincts aren't very on the mark."

Buffy sat up and glared. "And just what is that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

Dawn spoke up. "He has a point. I mean, look at some of your exes. Not exactly shining examples."

"Says the girl who went after the guy with the enchanted jacket."

"You're one the talk." Dawn scowled at her sister.

Clark cleared his throat, stopping the bickering. "I think we have some things we need to discuss before we all leave here tonight," he said mildly. "For one thing, what are we going to do about your friends? I don't think they're going to stop trying to go after Luthor."

"I think you're right." Buffy sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. "Angel is nothing if not stubborn, and Spike is only more so. I've never personally had to deal with Illyria before but from everything Lorne's told us, she's worse than the other two put together and multiplied by a hundred."

"Just what is Illyria, anyway?" Alfred asked as he started handing out coffee. Everyone accepted gratefully.

Buffy looked at Willow for an answer. The witch took a sip of her drink. "It's complicated. And understand that we got most of this information second-hand. Illyria is an Old One, an ancient demon-king from the time when demons ruled the world. Her essence was recently resurrected and took over the body of a friend of mine." Willow briefly closed her eyes and her mouth tightened. "She is kind of an ally but I'm not convinced that she won't turn on us at a later date. Lorne was not sure just how stable her loyalty to Angel and Spike are."

"So she's an unknown." Bruce sat down in a chair and leaned forward.

"Yes and no." Willow shook her head. "I told you, it's complicated. She was closest to a friend of ours named Wesley, but he's now dead. If Wesley were still alive I would be more inclined to believe Illyria was solidly on our side. I think that she has transfered her loyalties to Spike and Angel. However, if Angel and Spike are dusted..." Her voice trailed off and she bit her lip. "Illyria can be extremely dangerous in her own right and she has little sentiment for humans. Her time with Angel gave her a focus. I don't want to think about what would happen if that focus was gone."

Clark asked, "Any chance we can get her onto our side?"

Buffy spoke up. "We'd need to do it through Angel and Spike. It's possible, but will be hard. They're pretty bitter and jaded at life right now and don't want to listen to us."

Cordelia and Wesley looked at each other. "I know how to get them to listen," Wesley said.

Cordelia nodded. "You realize that this is stretching the rules more than a bit, right?"

"Well, what else are we supposed to do?" Wesley smiled sadly before disappearing in a flash of light.

Cordelia cast one last look over the group in the hotel suite and sighed. Light pulsed around her form and when it dissipated, she was gone.


End file.
